Rue the Day
by Falling's not the problem
Summary: It was a miracle Jamie survived the charge, let alone escaped the Germans. But that's because he, along with four younger English soldiers, had a saviour. A saviour with an accent. A saviour he's falling for. *Information and settings used from both the book and the movie. T to be safe*
1. Escape

**Chapter 1-Esacpe**

The charge had gone to plan at first. The German soldiers had run in all directions, dropping everything, fleeing from the thought of dying in such a horrible, un-heroic way. It had been easy to eliminate them, only a few had been smart enough to draw guns. The charge seemed to be a success.

For a short while, at least.

What Jamie didn't know, what no-one knew, was that these German soldiers had machine guns. Lots of machine guns. The moment the German soldiers made it to the forest, made it to the weapons, Jamie's men started to drop like flies, some dying quickly and quietly while others had time to cry out in pain and anguish. He never felt as solely responsible for something as he did at that very moment. And, watching all those men die around him, deaths he knew he was responsible for, he never wanted to cry so much.

How he himself survived the guns was a miracle he didn't understand. But the problem was; now he was in the woods, surrounded by German soldiers.

At that point, he could not accept his mistake. It sounded arrogate and stupid, but it was not because he thought he should be constantly right. It was because many had died because of this mistake. So he ran, thinking maybe he could escape them. Pushing Topthorn into a gallop to escape the Germans that surround him. He ran out of the woods, but he was surrounded once again. He trotted in a circle to avoid being pulled off of his faithful horse's back.

A man came striding towards him. He was a German soldier, he could tell from the uniform. The man had authority, judging from the decorations on his jacket and his powerful stride. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, as though he prepared to draw it at any moment. His hair was hidden under a strange, pointed grey cap and his face wore a deep scowl.

"What?! You think a garrison on open ground would go undefended?!" he shouted shrilly in English with a thick German accent, obviously furious. "Look at yourself! Who do you think you are?!"

He looked out at the field he and countless others had charged over just moments before. The bodies of both men and horses alike where littered across the ground, pools of blood had gathered around them. And he felt cold. So very cold. And it was his fault. These men had charged into death under his orders. Yet he had survived. He threw his sword into the ground and he was about to dismount, when a movement across the meadow caught his attention.

The wall of long grass (which he and his troops had charged form) was disturbed, and a lone rider charged through. It wasn't one of his soldiers, for they weren't wearing a uniform. No. From what he could see (which, at this distance, was not a lot), the rider was wearing a white shirt with black trousers. There was a strange piece of black of fabric flying from the rider's hips as he lent over the horse's neck. The horse was small, smaller than any horse of any soldier under his command and white. Again, unlike any of his soldiers.

As the rider neared, splashing trough the water near the tall grass, he realised something. Something shocking. The rider was mounted incorrectly. The rider sat astride the horse, one leg on each side of the saddle as though they were a man. Which was incorrect.

For the rider was a woman.

She let out a cry, like the one Jamie partook in just minutes before, just more shrill and high. The German soldiers and the English riders, who had managed to stay on their horses at the edge of the forest, looked to her, now aware of her presence.

The closer she came, the fiercer she seemed. Her face was creased with a scowl and her brown hair flew wildly around her face, obstructing her features from view. Her skirt (which was the fabric around her hips) floated out behind her like a dark cape. The horse itself was frightening. Its neck was stretched out in front of it, its teeth were bared and its ears laid back against its skull. Jamie could see the (frightening) large whites of its eyes.

She was only moments away on his left when he, along with all the other soldiers from both sides, realised that she wasn't going to stop.

Germans jumped away as she ran straight into the thick of them. It was as she guided the horse in a circle, that Jamie realised what she was doing. The Germans had jumped away from her, and was now ether lying on the ground or far from the young English soldier that they had been trying to pull off the tall chestnut horse he was atop off, leaving the lad a clear path away from the Germans and straight onto the vast field they had charged from.

"Courir! Courir!" she screamed to the young man, waving franticly to the field she came from. Jamie did not know any French, but he had a feeling, judging by the situation they were in, meant something along the lines of 'run' or 'flee'. The young trooper stared at her in shock a moment, before seeming snapping back to reality and pushing his horse forward into a gallop with a huge kick and a loud shout. The horse's large strides swallowed up the ground quickly, running across the field with it tail streaming out behind it.

Her eyes suddenly shot up and locked with Jamie's. He noticed the deep, chocolate brown of her eyes before it all became a blur of colour as she shot towards him. He was stunned for a moment as she realised what she was doing. She was going to free him as well. One of the braver German soldiers didn't jump out of the way of the little horse, probably thinking that it would grind to a halt. Instead, he was lost under the equine's hooves with a large, painful cry that Jaime tried extremely hard to ignore. He also quickly looked from the fresh red that quickly stained the grass."

"Aller! Courir!" Her cries where barley heard of the shouts of the German soldiers running forward to try stop her, but she was already speeding to save the next English soldier.

He wanted to stay and help her free some his soldiers, but he had no weapons, and his rapier had been pulled out of the ground and was lost somewhere in the confusion the woman was causing. So instead, he dug his heals into Topthorn's sides and started across the meadow.

The wind rushed past Jamie's ears as Topthorn seemed to go incredibly faster than he had in the charge, as though he understood the importance of speed in this situation. As the large black horse hurtled over body after body of their fallen comrades, Jamie realised how incredibly unfair this all was. He had ordered these men to their deaths, their pointless deaths, yet he had lived. He was running free. It was as he entered the tall grass he, seeing the easily distinguished track from the trooper who had fled before him he realised he was not safe yet.

He caught up with the lad on the chestnut quickly, their eyes contact connecting for moment before silently deciding to run on together. The truth was; he was sorry for the young man. His messy blonde hair and pink, childish cheeks portrayed his youth. This poor boy was probably happily working on a farm or pushing a merchandise cart before the war began, and now he was here. Experiencing what could only be described as hell.

Fear shot through Jamie as he heard the sound of approaching hoof beats. They were hard to hear over his own horse's footfalls, but he heard them none the less. He turned his head, afraid that some of the Germans had pursued them. Instead, he was welcomed by the sight of another young English soldier. And then another. And another. There were three English troops coming up to join them now. Jamie turned his head back forward so they could not see his smile. This was no time to smile. Men had just died. Lots of men.

'But' Jamie thought to himself "at least these lads lived and are now free from the German soldiers'.

A blur of white and black passed him, making him jump slightly. At a second glace. He realised it was the woman who had freed them. She was now in front of all of them, leaning over her small horse's (Jamie didn't think it was quite small enough to be a pony, but it was cutting it extremely close) neck, rocking with its movement to encourage it faster. When she was a few feet in front of them; she relaxed slightly but remained leant over her horse's neck.

Jamie could vaguely see another horse gaining on him. He turned his head, expecting to see one of the other riders, but was greeted by a sad sight.

It was a horse without a rider. Jamie stared a moment, trying place his finger on the familiarity of the horse. The following recognition made his heart break. A fiery red bay with four, perfectly even white socks and a twinkle shaped star on his forehead. He knew this horse well. It was James' horse.

His friend had been either killed or taken by the Germans. Either way, he was gone. Dead or to die very soon. Jamie couldn't decide what was better; dying or being taken captive.

James' horse- Joey, he was called- ran past him and Topthorn, eager to be the leader of the herd. He came up beside the woman, and Jamie saw her do a small double take. She then leant back so she was sitting in the saddle and Jamie saw her gather her reins in one hand before leaning over and grabbing Joey's reins. She sat up straight again, pulling the bay slightly closer to her.

She ran forward for a few more moments before suddenly taking a shape left towards more woodlands, taking Joey with her. Topthorn, going back on his herd animal instincts, followed. Jamie thought of leading him away from the woman, going back to their camp maybe. But that could be dangerous for the people who were still there is the Germans were, in fact, pursuing them. So, since she seemed to know what she was doing, he followed the mysterious woman.

The sound of hoof beats morphed quickly into water splashes as the small group entered a stream that ran through woods. Jamie was comforted to know that the other Englishmen had followed the Frenchwoman as well.

He didn't know how long they ran. They ran through the woods, changing course every once and a while when the stream forked. One thing he did notice was that they stayed in the stream, never leaving the water. He guessed it was to conceal their tracks in case the Germans decided to follow them. I felt like hours before they finally stopped. The stream had widened into a pond and they were once again in a clearing.

The woman was hunched over in her saddle and breathing heavily. She dropped the white horse's reins and stroked it neck as it heaved for air. Then she, surprisingly, swung her leg over the horse's neck and then carefully manoeuvred herself onto Joey's saddle (once again sitting astride as though she was a man). She reached over and looped her horses reins around the cheek strap on the bridle and throat lash a few times before she let go of the little horse altogether.

Jamie was shocked. He trusted Topthorn, after all he was his horse. But not quite enough to leave him unattended and expect him to stay where he was. And yet she was gladly letting go of this misbehaving horse (it had refused to slow slightly at the beginning of the ride so the other riders could keep up and had tried to bite Joey at least five times) and expect it to be obedient.

The little horse dropped its head to drink and the woman let Joey do the same. It was only then Jamie realised how much Topthorn was heaving and the amount of sweat covering his coat. He allowed him to drop his head and drink as well. The four younger men followed.

After a few minutes of silence the mysterious lady pulled Joey's head back up and nudged him into a trot, setting off across the pond. She whistled and the little white horse looked up and stared for a moments before trotting after its Mistress.

Jamie stood there, not exactly sure what to do. He did not know this woman. He should not trust her. Yet she had freed them (for no apparent reason, mind you). And if he were to leave her, he would have nowhere to go (their path had been too confusing and winding to get back to camp). This was unfamiliar land, so if he were to leave her company, he would no doubt get lost. So he gently pushed Topthorn forward to follow her. He was comforted when he heard the younger men follow as well. Once again, the small group where galloping through the water, re-entering the woods.

***00***

**All of the French in this will be translated through Google translate. So some of the French may be really, really wrong. **

**If there are any spelling or grammar errors (or plot hole or parts that don't make sense), please do inform me.**

**Anycow, this story will based off event in both the movies and the books. Because they are both amazing.**


	2. Conversation

**Chapter 2- Conversation**

It was a few hours later that they stopped again. The sun was setting, illuminating the leaves of the large, dark trees in an almost haunting fashion. The sounds of the running stream and splashes of the horses walking in the water had become almost hypnotic. The woman led them out of the water at a walk and weaved through the trees until they reached a dark, run-down barn not far from the water.

She dismounted Joey stiffly, taking a moment to rearrange her skirt into a less offensive fashion (she still looked like a mess) before taking hold of the reins and leading him through the broken, rotten door. The woman gave a sharp, high whistle and the small white horse plodded tiredly in after them. Jamie and the young troopers, on the other hand, stayed atop their horses. They weren't exactly sure what they should be doing. Why were they here? Should they be following her in?

The question was answered a moment later when a hand poked out of the door and beckoned them inside with a single wave. Jamie, tired and sore, looked to the younger men. They wore confused and slightly concerned expressions, not sure what to expect inside. They looked back at him, awaiting directions. This reminded him that he was their superior and gave them orders, even though the circumstances had changed severely. They didn't know what to do, so they trusted in his judgment. 'Even though they shouldn't, not anymore' he thought bitterly to himself. Yet he reluctantly dismounted, all of the boys following.

A light illuminated the inside of the barn, leaking out of the glassless windows. Now he could clearly see the broken doors and piles of rotting, black wood around them. Some of the mouldy roof tiles had fallen off and smashed on the ground, revealing the old wooden frame of the building. There were mushrooms and fungus growing on just about everything. Jamie took a deep breath before he led Topthorn into the barn.

The barn was as worst for wear on the inside as it was on the outside, wood splintering and posts collapsing. The five stalls were unlike the ones back at the base in England, which had closed walls and wooden doors. But these ones were more like pens, made up of old fences and matching gates. Of course, another difference was that the stalls at the camp were almost perfect condition (save for a few scratches) while the ones here had whole boards missing and posts rotting. And rather than new, clean buckets for water, there were dirty old troughs by the gates for the horses to drink from.

The mysterious lady was holding a lantern and leading Joey into one of the stalls, shutting the gate and latching it closed. The small white horse on the other hand, walked slowly down into the next stall. Jamie was once again shocked by the misbehaving horse's obedience. The woman placed the lantern handle on a rusty hook and went to close the gate for the little horse.

She remained facing away from them and properly fixed her black (and now dirty) skirt so it was higher up her waist, just beneath chest so the men could now see the soles of her dark brown leather boots rather than the skirt dragging across the ground, getting dusty . She did up the top button of her short sleeved white shirt (from where it had come undone during the ride), but left the collar button undone. She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a black ribbon. Then she turned to face them so they could see her properly for the first time.

Her face was thin and her skin was slightly olive in complexion, clear of any blemishes. She stared at them, analysing them with large, Hazel eyes that had swirls of darker brown (And where those gold specks?). The only word that came to mind while looking into them was 'sharp'. She stood tall, back straight and shoulders pulled back. Her unbuttoned lapel revealed her defined collar-bone. She began to pull her slightly wavy, rich chocolate coloured hair up and away from her straight nose and not high, but by all means sharp cheekbones. Her whole appearance was sharp, really, not just her eyes and cheeks. She was not the most beautiful of women, but at the same time not unattractive. She was rather pretty, really, if not slightly terrifying.

She looked at them all in turn, eyes quickly looking them up then down. Her eyes landed on Jamie last and he found himself the subject of her intense and unnerving gaze. He noticed that she stared at him a little longer than the other men, smirking when her eyes landed on his moustache. She finished tying her hair in a high ponytail, long fringe getting pushed behind her ears before letting her arms fall to her sides with a huff. There was a tense silence before she spoke.

"Vous parez francais?" she asked, looking at them expectantly. The soldiers were all silent, not understanding what she had said. It was Jamie who answered.

"I am sorry Miss, but we don't speak French." Even though he was fairly certain that it was French she was speaking, he still hesitated small bit. He also wasn't sure if they all didn't speak the foreign language, but the confused looks on the younger men's faces made him think they didn't. He certainly didn't.

"Ahh" she said before cocking her head to the side slightly "So, you are English soldiers, oui?" Her voice was rich and had a thick French accent, but her English was superb, even better than some of his soldier's (or who had been his soldiers. They were dead now, he remembered with a slight shiver). Where would she learn English like that?

"Yes, Miss." Said one of the troopers behind Jamie. He had brown hair and looked slightly older than the other three boys. Not as old as Jamie, though. The woman nodded, hair bobbing and swaying as she did so.

"We will do pleasantries later." She said harshly, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "But for now, we need to untack the horses. Some of them will have to share stall, but not with Maybell." She said, pointing to the little white horse who he supposed was called 'Maybell'. "She…she…" the woman fumbled with her words a moment, forgetting the one she needed "Dislikes other horses."

Without another word, she turned quickly, making her skirt fly out behind her. She walked over to her small horse's stall and carefully climbed over the top rails of the fence (Jamie was seriously afraid of her safety, since the paper thin plank looked like it was about to snap). The four younger men looked at each other, shocked at the woman's bluntness and lack of introduction. It was Jamie who moved first, tugging gently on Topthorn's reins and leading him over to the stall Joey was in. The two horses seemed to enjoy each other's company, and this way the other soldier's horses would get whole stalls to themselves.

The first thing to two horses did once Topthorn was inside the small pen was nuzzle each other. The sight warmed Jamie's sad heart for a moment, before he began undoing Topthorn's girth. Jamie felt the events of the day weigh down on him and he suddenly felt heavy and tired. Untacking Topthorn was slow and clumsy work, as he fiddled with various buckles and straps. The large horse's head was hanging low and his eyes where shut. Joey, on the other hand, seemed alive and spritely, ears pricked forward and eyes wide.

Jamie was just hauling Topthorn's saddle off his back when the woman slipped into the stall with him and started to take Joey's gear off. Jamie was shocked she finished untacking her own horse so fast, but was grateful. It meant that he didn't have to untack Joey himself. He already thought he might collapse before he could take all of Topthorn's tack off.

It meant that he didn't have to untack Joey himself.

"Doez he have name?" her thickly accented voice snapped him out of the small trance he was in. _She missed 'a'._

"Beg your pardon, Miss?"

"Ze horse." She said pointing to Joey "Doez he have name?" Jamie decided it was best not to correct the fact she missed a word.

"Yes. He's name is Joey. He belongs to a friend of mine." His voice became sad as he corrected himself. "He belonged to a friend of mine." The woman looked at him, slightest amount of sympathy in her eyes.

"He is English horse, Oui?" she asked, her voice softer and kinder than before. Jamie forgot his manners and simply nodded. She smiled. "Better speak to him in English then." He did a sort of double take, not quite understanding what she was talking about until she grabbed Joey by the bit and gently pulled his head down in front of her face. The bay struggled for a moment, pulling back against the bit, before calming.

"You are very brave." She whispered to him. His ears pricked forward "Your master would have been proud." Joey almost seemed to sadden. She rested her forehead on his and stroked up his ears. Jamie continued to slowly untack Topthorn while watching her. After a few moments she drew back and finished untacking him. She untied something Jamie couldn't quite see from his saddle. A banner of some sorts. She stared at it a moment before shoving it into a small pocket in her skirt.

With Joey's saddle and gear safely rested on the side of the fence, the woman didn't bother using the gate as she climbed back over the fence (Jamie flinched when he heard it creak). She walked back to the door of the barn, the orange lantern light throwing her shadows far across the dirty ground.

She bent down and picked up two of five wooden buckets by the door, before marching out into the twilight.

There was a faint squeaking sound outside before she returned, clean water splashing over the rims of the buckets. She walked back over to her small horse's stall, try to avoid the buckets hitting her legs and spilling even more. She carefully emptied both buckets into the small water trough, Maybell dropping her head to suck the water greedily. Marie made her way back to the door of the barn with her now empty buckets, but one of the younger lads had climbed out of his stall and stopped her.

"Please, Miss" he said quietly. "Let me." He reached forward to take the buckets out of her hands but she stepped back. She smiled tightly at the young man before quickly walking back over to her horse's stall, standing in front of the old brown saddle sitting on the even older fence rail. She placed down the buckets and began to dig around in one of her saddle bags before pulling out a small brown fabric bag.

She held the bag out to the boy, but seemed unwilling to move towards him. So, instead, he moved forward and it. She gestured to a ladder (the only thing in the run-down barn the looked slightly new or useable) which led to an empty hay loft (Jamie thought it looked a slight bit dodgy).

"Wait there." She said, her accent almost seemed to be stronger than before. She left no room for argument as she swiftly turned and picked up the buckets before marching out. The boys slowly filed up the ladder, but Jamie stayed.

He could hear the squeak of a water pump in use outside. The younger men might be excepting her generosity, but he accepted enough of it today. She had put herself in danger, saving himself and others from his mistake. He was responsible for this mess. No matter how tired he was, he was going to help her.

She walked back into the barn, pausing when she saw him. She stared at Jamie a moment with the same sharpness in her eyes as earlier, before nodding her head towards the ladder and continued walking, finishing filling up the trough in Maybell's pen. As she made her way back to the door, Jamie spied the other three buckets by door. He picked up two buckets and fell into step beside her as she walked past him on the way out.

Her head snapped to look at him, glaring up at him with her eyebrows furrowed, as though she was angry and confused at the same time. Also annoyed. She stopped just out of the barn, nodding back towards the door. But Jamie stayed by her side. She began walking again, but she continued to stare at him as they made their way out of the door and towards an old water pump in hopes of scaring him of to leave her be. But he stayed beside her. She gave up and instead began to fill her buckets. Rather than walking off when she was done, she waited for him. Awkward tension clung in the air as the pump squeaked. He needed to say something. To start a conversation.

He began to search through the many questions that were in his head, searching for the least offensive. He immediately thought of the buckets that were in their hands. How and why were they there?

"May I ask why the buckets were by the door, Miss?" he spoke what was on his mind, but there was no answer. Only silence and the squeak of the water pump could be heard by Jamie. He didn't expect an answer. He expected her to remain silent. But after a long moment of the deafening quietness, she replied in her harsh voice.

"My sister and I used to come here often, Monsieur, before ze… ze war began." Her voice became quiet at the end. Then she spoke again, voice regaining its harsh bitterness. "I use it as a… bed when I go in town." He, once again, bit his tongue over the lack of a word.

"Do you go into town often, Miss?" They were making their way back into the barn, ready to fill Joey and Topthorn's trough. He had managed to get this out of her; he was going to keep this conversation going. He promised himself to be as polite to any person he met as he could be, and he felt obliged to be especially well-mannered to this woman who had done so much for him and his men (even if it seemed she did not share the same opinion).

"Marie Gilbert" she said, before loudly pouring the water into the trough to keep him from talking**. **He was not going to say anything though, because, admittedly, he was confused. What did 'Marie Gilbert' have to do with anything? She saw the confused look on his face as he poured his water, nudging the horse's necks out of the way so he could do so. She spoke again with the same harsh tone. "My name is Marie Gilbert."

He wanted to smile in triumph. Finally, he knew his saviour's name. He remained polite (as he swore he would), but did not fore-see nor intended for what happened next to occur, but it sadly did.

"Major Jamie Stuart, Miss Gilbert." His back straightened and he made his face emotionless by reflex. It didn't seem like a wrong thing to say to her, but apparently it was, for her expression became even more bitter and she swiftly turned to walk out. He hurriedly followed her.

"Do you go to town often, Miss Gilbert?" He asked again, determined to keep this conversation from ending. He was internally screaming at himself for offending her and losing his minor progress at pleasantries, though he wasn't really sure what he did. He just stated his name and rank, after all. He had remained polite. Perhaps she did not want to know of his ranking? It was the only option that made the slightest sense to him.

"I go when we need supplies, Major Stuart." Half of her sentence was drowned out by the squeak of the water pump as she filled her buckets again. Though he did notice she said the word 'Major' slightly disgusted. He may have wanted a conversation, but Miss Gilbert didn't seem to.

"Do you have a family, Miss Gilbert?" he knew she had a sister for she had told him, but perhaps there were more people in her family. Questions plagued his mind. Where were her family, if she had any? Had she saved more soldiers before this? A horrid thought came to mind. What if she had rescued _German _soldiers? What if he and his troops were going to meet them? The thought sent shudders straight through him.

But asking about her family seemed to be the last straw (there had been few originally, anyway). She turned to him, glaring openly and frighteningly with her large hazel orbs. She turned from him again, swiftly walking back towards the door. He went to follow her, but her head snapped back to look at him in an almost un-human manner.

"Take your buckets to ze loft, Major Stuart." She bit out, glare pinning him in place. She swiftly continued into the barn, leaving Jamie where he was.

He was confused and ashamed. He had only asked her family, yet it had spiralled down-hill so quickly. What was so wrong about asking about her family?

He remained there for a few, long moments before quickly shuffling inside, eager to get to the hay loft and attempt to sleep this whole thing off.

***00***

**Who is Marie's family? I know but you don't… yet. **

**Don't make me seem crazy for Marie talking and Joey kind of understanding, because in the book, it's made clear Joey knows what's going on all the time, conversations and all. And this here is based off both and book, so ya. As you can probably tell by now, Maire isn't the most agreeable of people. She is not going to be one of those kind, perfect damsels made for the protagonist to fall in love with. No way in hell.**

**Anycow, another chapter. This time, I got to squeeze some of my horse vocabulary in here (e,g, girth.)**

**(Also, I know 'white' horses are actually called light grey unless they are albino, but I didn't want folks getting confused. So I said white. Deal with it, little to no people who care.)**

**Inform me of any spelling or grammar errors. Or plot holes. Or parts that don't make sense. Or any type of weirdness/ badness, really. I have re-read this so many times I'm sick of it.**

**Also, I don't really know what a French accent sounds like, so I'm doing the best I can here with that.**

**Noticed that the last chapter's title is misspelt, but too lazy to go and re upload it for that one mistake, so point out other mistakes so I find motivation please.**


	3. Remorse

**Chapter 3- Remorse**

It took an extreme amount of effort to get one bucket of water up the ladder without spilling any (he decided to ignore the few drops that had soaked his uniform). He left the other bucket on the floor, unable to be bothered to haul the heavy wooden vessel up into the loft.

He quickly silenced his loud breathing when he saw the four younger soldiers littered across the floor, sleeping soundly. Jamie remained completely still, bucket of water rocked gently from the handle in his hand. He looked around for a place to sit, finding a small spot at the back, behind all the boys. He could also see the small brown bag the Maire had handed the blonde young man. So he started to make his way towards the rear of the room, jumping around as quietly as he could manage. As he took a large step over one of the young men (he had brown hair a smudge of dirt of his rosy cheek), the bucket swung on its handle, causing some of the water to spill over the edge. A drop of water catapulted out of the safety of the bucket and quickly hurdled towards the ground as gravity intended. Except it didn't hit the ground. No. Instead, the big, fat water drop landed on the boy's forehead.

Jamie stilled. The boy's eyes squeezed shut and he turned his head away slightly, the water droplet sliding from his forehead and onto the floor. His brow remained furrowed for a moment more before relaxing again. Jamie could barely supress a relieved sigh. Knowing his luck, it would be the sigh that woke the boy, not the tidal wave that had just landed on his forehead.

Jamie held his breathe as he walked quietly through the maze of bodies. It was only when he was safely at the back of the loft before he let that breath go. He gently placed the bucket on the ground next to the small bag, leaning against the wall and sliding down to the ground. Leaning towards the bucket, he used his cupped hand to scoop up water to drink. His eyes slid over to the little fabric bag.

It was opened on the floor very close to him. He could see a few small, brown crumbs on the edge of the bag and on the floor around it. His curiosity was piked then, more so than it had been before. He leaned forward and reached for the bag. He gripped the fabric delicately between his thumb and forefinger, dragging it across the floor towards him. Picking it up and carefully opened it, he was pleasantly surprised to find a few slices of hard, brown bread.

He may have found the surprise nice, but it didn't mean he was hungry. In fact, he was the exact opposite. He was more warmed by the fact that the harsh, bitter French woman gave her food to them. She hardly seemed like the type of person to share and care. But, then again, she had risked her life to help them. The German soldiers could have easily killed her. He peeled a few flakes off of the crust from one of the pieces of bread, but otherwise, ate nothing.

He laid he head back against the wall in order to try calm down. The exhaustion he had felt before was gone; it disappeared whilst he had been filling the water troughs. So he tried to find something to ease him into slumber.

His ears picked up the sound of the occasional rustle or bump from down stairs. The sounds of Marie moving unknown equipment was a nice distraction, the hypnotic sound he needed to begin to ease him to sleep slowly, exhaustion creeping back. Then, the sound of shoe soles delicately climbing up the ladder (probably so the rungs didn't collapse).

Jamie was, once again, wide awake. The footsteps stopped at the top of the ladder just as he had. It was after a short silence before he heard her carefully walk around the sleeping boys. She was coming towards him, Jamie realised, or perhaps more the water and bread. He doubted she would want to be near him after his conversation slip up (though he was still not quite sure what he did wrong).

Her quite foot falls stopped just in front of him. He cracked his eye open ever so slightly so he could watch her. She bent down carefully and picked up the bucket of water and placed the lantern she had bought up down. She took the water towards the other wall, Jamie noticing she was walking with her legs apart slightly. After it was gently placed down she lowered herself to the ground. Jamie struggled to keep his eyes only slightly open as he observed her pull a folded handkerchief out of the breast pocket of her blouse and carefully dip it into the bucket of water. Jamie then watched in shock as she pulled the hem of her skirt up past her knees.

He was about to avert his gaze from her exposed legs, when he saw the horror hidden underneath the fabric.

Riding like a man had taken its toll on her, especially since she had been wear black stockings to protect her legs, not trousers (which he had originally thought they were when her first saw her at distance). The stockings had holes in them on the inside of the knees, caused no doubt by the old, rough leather of the saddle. The skin was red and raw, blisters formed and forming created an ugly pattern on her skin. There was the slightest amount of blood around the worst of the blisters.

Miss Gilbert draped the soaked piece of fabric over her legs the irritated skin, pressing down on it lightly and wincing slightly in pain.

"Perhaps riding properly would have been a better option, Miss Gilbert." The words slipped out of Jamie's mouth before he could filter them. He wanted hit himself. Hard. In the face. With a brick. If asking about her family had upset her, he was afraid what this stupid comment would make her do.

As he had guessed, the glare she gave him in response was murderess.

"You should be sleeping." She had stared out almost shouting, but quietened dramatically as she remembered the four sleeping men around them. But she continued to glare at him, not even blinking. It was rapidly becoming unnerving.

"I am sorry, Miss." These were the only words Jamie could force out of his mouth. He felt his throat close up and palms become sweaty. She was going to kill him, no doubt. He had apologized quickly to try to get her to look away from him. But she continued to glare at him.

"Get some sleep, Major Stuart." Her voice was harsh and heavily accented. "We will be leaving at midnight."

He quickly lay on his sides and closed his eyes, happy to have her eyes off of him. Miss Gilbert, on the other hand, kept cleaning and soothing her wounds in the cold water. It was the sound of dripping of water as the handkerchief was pulled soaked from the bucket that eventually lulled Jamie to sleep.

*00*

_He was sitting on Topthorn, but that was all he could gather for a moment. He could see his horse's neck and the back of his big, black ears, but not much else. Just a grey haze surrounding him. Then, slowly, trees came into view, fading in from the endless oblivion. As did brown, damp leaves covering a forest floor. The shrubs growing on the ground. The clearings in the distance. Then, finally, men. There was rows and rows of men, young and old (mostly young), sitting astride horses in their clean, olive coloured cavalry uniforms atop shined saddles._

_ "__Gentlemen."_

_He heard his own, strong voice ring out in the trees, startling him momentarily. He wasn't speaking, not purposefully at least. They were not his own words. He tried to move, but found he could not. He was trapped, in a certain manner, within his own body. But the words didn't stop._

_"__It is an honour to ride beside you."_

_It was then he recognized where he was, to his horror. He tried to stop talking, to keep the words un-said, but, like before, he had no control over them. He tried to stay quiet, tried to move but couldn't. He was trapped watching, trapped listening. His body was still not responding to his wishes._

_ "__Make the __Kaiser rue the day he crossed swords with us."_

_It was not the Kaiser who would rue the day. It was Jamie who would, who _did_. It would be the other superiors who had sent their men, men with families and friends, to their pointless death. Because that's what their deaths had been. Pointless. Jamie's men, his friends, had barely made a dent in the German army. If anything, they helped them. Now that German garrison, perhaps many more, would learn from his mistake, just as Jamie _wished _he could. But he couldn't fix his errors. He couldn't say no to the plan and stay at camp. He couldn't even do that is this dream, it seemed._

_"__Let every man do himself, his King, his country, and his fallen comrades proud."_

_Jamie felt no pride. Just remorse. He tried to stop himself from talking but could not. He tried to turn, tried to look away from the men's face. But he could not. The faces full of hope and mild excitement and fear. He didn't want to look, but at the same time felt obliged to._

_"__Be brave. Fear god, honor the king!"_

*00*

Jamie was shocked awake by a hard kick to the leg. He took a sharp intake of breath as he shot upright like a prairie dog. He looked around, unable to see anything but black. He could _feel _the open space around him, but he could _see _it. It was as his eyes adjusted and he looked around that he remembered where he was. For, standing above him, was and annoyed looking Marie Gilbert.

"Get Up." She hissed, before turning and making her way back towards the ladder. From down stairs, he could see the soft glow of, what no doubt was, a lantern's light. He looked around the loft to see that the four other men were no longer there.

He remembered how Miss Gilbert had said 'we will be leaving at midnight'. Judging by how dark it was out, it was midnight. Thus, time to move.

Tacking up was a quick, but hard process, on account there was the light of only one lantern to go by. A lantern at the other end of the stall row. Jamie went completely by memory of the buckles and straps, hoping he hadn't messed anything up. He was grateful Miss Gilbert tacked up Joey; otherwise he himself would have had to do it.

They were outside now, plodding back to the stream. They were not speeding along as they had been before, for both men and beasts were still sore and exhausted from the hard riding only hours before. They were all tired. Well, except for Miss Gilbert, it seemed. She was slightly in front of them; Jamie could see her blouse and Maybell's coat clearly in the night, almost glowing. Her back was still straight and she didn't seem in the least bit weary. She had pulled the reins over Joey's neck and held them in her hand. The other soldiers were a short distance behind them, muttering quietly amongst themselves. Marie and Jamie, it seemed, were not invited into the conversation. Which gave them the perfect opportunity to create their own. Jamie still wanted to make up for the things he had said to offend her before.

He nudged Topthorn into a slow, lazy trot so he was beside her before slowing the great animal back to a walk. She turned to look at him, before realizing who it was and turning her head back to the front (not before sending him a quick glare). Jamie remained silent, once again searching through the many questions the woman before him had raised. It was the name of her horse that he decided would be a good way to calm the tension.

"Maybell-"he was going to continue his question, but she interrupted him rather rudely.

"Yes, Major Stuart." She said sharply, speaking his name with a particular distaste. He waited a few moments before finishing his sentence.

"It is a rather strange name for a French horse. May I inquire to how she got it, Miss Gilbert?" He was not expecting an answer. It was obvious she did not like him, so why answer his questions?

"My mother named her. She spoke good English, and thought it was attractive." She replied tartly. 'Spoke'. Past tense. He wanted to ask if her mother had died or if something else happened to her, but didn't want to offend Marie any more than he already had. But this did open a question he had been curious about for a while. (Also, 'attractive' was notthe word she should have used in the sentence.)

"Did your mother teach you English, Miss Gilbert?" He wanted to know answer so badly. But she turned her head towards him slightly, glaring at him. She seemed to do that to him a lot. Glare. He was once again unsure if she was going to answer.

"Yes." She replied, harsh and cold. Then she was gone, cantering ahead on her little horse. Jamie managed to push Topthorn forward rather quickly, though the big horse tried to resist going faster. But the other men were not ready, and fumbled for the reins a moment before speeding up to try to catch up with the other mounts.

*00*

It was dawn when they finally left the water again. The air around them was foggy, causing dew to stick to the ground below them. The sun was only just peaking over the horizon, painting the sky with multiple shades of pink and orange. The small stream, which at most gone half way up the horse's canon, had widened into a creek and swallowed up the horse's knees with its swirling, murky waters.

They cantered tiredly along a dirt road through a meadow, hiding their hoof prints amongst the many others covering the path. Jamie's eyes slid over to Maybell. Unlike Topthorn (and all the other on the ride), who was exhausted, she seemed to want to go faster. It seemed unreal that the pale pony was this fast and had this much stamina.

She was a dainty little thing. Her head was fine, small and dished. Her muzzle was a light grey, as were her legs beyond her knees, and she had a blush pink snip bang in the middle of her nose. It didn't really resemble anything; it was just a blob of pink. Her nostrils were flared and she was pulling against the bit in hopes to speed along impossibly faster.

As they continued to speed along the dirt path, Jamie took in the sights around him. There were nice flowers and shrubs, the occasional tree and even an old but still functioning windmill. Then a unpainted wooden fence appeared beside them. Inside the fence was an abundance of trees and pale flowers. There was even a small pond situated at the bottom of circular hill, like it was supposed to be full all the way but was not. Then, in the distance, a farm house. It looked old, but nowhere near as old as barn they had spent the early part of the night in. It also had a small barn, equally as old. There were a few ploughed patches of land close to the house and a string clothes line. He saw a small figure in white run out of the house.

Then Marie loosened her hold on Maybell's reins, letting the little horse race forward, dragging poor Joey along with them. Jamie nudged Topthorn's sides, and he could have sworn he felt the stallion _groan_, before obediently speeding to keep up with pair in front. But he couldn't. They raced ahead, not slowing even a fraction, leaving the five men in the dust.

When they reached the courtyard in front of the farm house, Maire pulled Maybell's reins hard, slowing from a gallop to a complete halt with a simple knee lock on the horse's part. A cloud of dust rose up from the ground a floated around them for a moment. Marie dismounted, throwing her legs over horse's neck rather than its rump, jumping to the ground and letting Joey's reins go. It's not like he was going anywhere, on account that he looked almost too tired to stand, let alone race from the courtyard and into freedom.

Jamie could see the figure very clearly now as he eased Topthorn to halt next to Maybell. It was a girl.

She was young, her roundish face proved that. No older than twelve, perhaps thirteen at the most. She wore a long sleeved, mid-calf length white dress with little blue flowers printed on it. Over that, a dirty cream apron that came just above the hem of her skirt. She wore scuffed brown boots, just like Maire's, but much lighter. She had pale brown hair, many shades lighter than Marie's. Half of her locks were pulled up into a messy pigtail by a faded pink ribbon, while the other half was left untied, falling over her shoulders and back. She was smiling widely and brightly, her large hazel eyes twinkling. It was the Hazel eyes that gave it away. Underneath the youthful roundness of her face, he could already see her cheek bones. But she seemed much kinder than the older woman. It was that that fact that made Jamie doubt his theory. But what happened next certainly supported it.

"Maire!" the girl screamed joyfully, rushing towards the older woman with her arms stretched. The darker haired brunette bent down and scooped the girl up in a hug, twirling her around and laughing happily. This proved it to Jamie. This girl was, most likely, Marie's sister.

"Emilie, ma chérie, comment il est bon de vous voir!" she said, placing the girl- Emilie- back down on the ground and knelt in front of her. Emilie opened her mouth to speak, the first excited syllable left her mouth, but then the words died in her throat. Her already wide eyes become even more so as they landed on Jamie. Her mouth dropped completely as she stared at him, now standing beside Topthorn. She stood there, gaping, eyes shift from one soldier to the next. Marie followed the girl's gaze, panicking herself when she realised what she was looking at.

"Emilie-"she said hurriedly, but was silenced by a loud creak. It was the kitchen door that opened, this time an old man appeared. He had a worn face and silver hair that reached his chin. His garments were a dirty, blue shirt with a black knit vest and dark grey trousers. His eyes were tired and sad, yet brightened significantly when they landed on the form of the older girl.

"Maire…" he smiled at first, voice warm and affectionate. But the man saw what the girl had missed at first straight away. The soldiers. He looked shocked and bewildered for a moment, before his expression darkened dramatically.

"Marie." It seemed more like a growl now. Maire slowly stood, and carefully nudged Emilie behind her. She did not seem worried or afraid, just ever so slightly cautious.

"Grandpère." She said innocently, raising her chin slightly. Her eyes were wide and innocent, but the smaller of the two girls still hid behind her skirt.

Her mock innocence seemed to set the old man off, for he lurched into a French rant. He didn't just shout. No. He _thundered. _Emilie was not afraid, but she still hid behind her sister's skirt whilst Marie remained tall and proud, with her head held high. She gave the occasional short answer, which seemed infuriate the man impossibly more.

The onslaught ended and there was silence, thick and heavy. It hung in the air for a few moments, and then Maire did something daring. She spoke, almost more innocently than before.

"Ainsi peuvent-ils rester?" Emilie gasped quietly and finally cowered back the slightest amount. Marie remained standing straight, ready to face the consequences for whatever the hell she just asked of 'Grandpère'. The man seemed to become impossibly more furious before slumped over slightly in defeat and sighed deeply. There was yet another heavy silence.

"Emilie." He stated tiredly, causing the little girl to squeak, much like a mouse. She looked at the man with wide eyes. His eyes, on the other hand, were on the ground with his head bowed. His hand rested on his forehead, and with the help of his hair, blocked his face from view. He finished his statement in the same quiet, tired voice. "Aide Maire a mis les chevaux loin."

Emilie's face filled with excitement and Maire quickly walked forward, placing a peak on the old man's cheek. His head snapped up, his eyes held amusement. But his voice was entirely different as a few sentences of French spurted from his mouth in a bitter tone.

'Grandpère means grandfather.'

Jamie didn't know where the knowledge came from. He didn't know where he picked it up, but it was there now. 'Grandpère means grandfather'. It was the bitter tone that had made it click. The tone so like Maire's. 'So that's where she gets it from'.

Maire laughed and gave a few word reply to her grandfather, before turning to Jamie. The clear determination on her face made him want to gulp and cower like Emilie had. But he remained how he was, hoping to seem as though she had no effect on him. But she did. Because she was terrifying. She walked towards him, strides large and purposeful. When she reached him, she grabbed the reins from him, tugging on Topthorn to move to the next soldier and his horse, not even giving Jamie a sideways glance. Emilie (bouncing rather than walking, it seemed) had taken both Maybell's and Joey's reins and was leading them to the little old barn.

"Follow me, Messieurs." The old man spoke, shocking Jamie. He spoke marvellous English, much like Marie. Did Emilie speak English as well? If so, how well?

Maire had swiped all of the reins out of the soldier's hands, and was now leading the five horse parade into the barn after her sister. The boys timidly followed the man through the door, while Jamie tried to keep his brave face and posture as they entered the house.

All of the furniture and fixtures were a pale, raw wood, with no sort paint or varnish. The only things that were not wood were the cheap, white plaster on the walls, the chairs in the sitting room and the brick and stone around the fire place. There were two small rooms on either side of the door and a staircase in line with it. On their right was a sitting room with three brown, old (_extremely _old) plush chairs. They were set up in a triangle; one of the chairs had a woven basket of plain coloured wool balls and a pair of knitting needles inside. At the back of the room was a wooden table and stool against the wall. There was a variety of pins and needles in a bowl in the back corner of the surface, along with a pair of old, thin scissors and a faded measuring tape. Next to the table was a pile of neatly, tightly fold plain fabrics. On the left of the door was a small kitchen. Next to them, against the wall underneath the widow, was a wooden bench with a water pump and sink. In the centre of the room was a dark wooden table and chairs surrounding it. Shelves lined the wall, full of jars (some were empty, but many were fill with what looked to be jam), pots and cooking utensils. One shelf was devoted entirely to plates, while another for bowls. There was a fire place on the far wall, surrounded by brick and sooty stone on the floor. It was not lit, but there were burnt logs, still smoking slightly and filling the room with a woody smell. There was a large bowl of strawberries in the sink and something cooking in a large pot on the simple stove. There was also a large tin of sugar on the table, next to other, smaller bowls of fruit.

The soldiers were herded to the table by the old man. There was a moment of subtle chaos as they shuffled around in attempts to find a chair to sit in. The grandfather strode over to the large pot on the stove and scooped some of the contents- porridge- into five small bowls which, in turn, were placed in front of the men. At first they were almost afraid to eat, but hunger quickly passed their nervousness and they ate. They tried to pace themselves, mostly succeeding. But every few moments, they were overcome with the desire to shove the food into their gob, and hurriedly scoop a few spoonfuls of the slosh into their mouths before slowing down to the average pace. Grandfather leant on the back of one of the few empty chairs, staring (or was he glaring?) at them in turn (another feature Marie seemed to have inherited).

"How did you come into my Granddaughter's care?" He shocked them into silence. Speaking a proper, fully punctuated sentence, they realised just how fantastic his English was, much better than Marie's. But he made them, these grown men, sound like infants, in need of constant care and assistance. And from a _woman_, of all things.

Jamie, who had been the main speaker throughout the whole 'trip' remained silent, for once not quite sure of what to say. It was one of the lads -the blonde, fresh cheeked one- that spoke softlyS. He gave a vague, short story of the events that had taken place not even twenty-four hours before. The old man's fury, which had fully receded, began welling up again as the story proceeded (particularly at the part where she had saved them, running straight into the midst of the enemy soldiers). When the boy finished his story, there was a long moment of drawn out silence. Than the old man was consumed by rage, slamming his fist down on the table with a short growl, before turning, slamming open the door storming out into the courtyard.

"MARIE!" they could hear his angered roar from the kitchen, echoing across the vast countryside around the farm. Jamie could see the woman in question standing in the door way of the barn, looking confused and slightly concerned. But she was not afraid.

One thing was for certain. Maire was in big, _big _trouble.

***00***

**This line here is to see if underline works on this website. If there is no underline, it doesn't work. If there is, goodo.**

**'****Gilbert' is pronounced 'Jilbert' in this case. I think. It sounds French, so I'm going to go with it.**

**These chapters are steadily getting longer. I'll try to make them shorter in future (probably not going to happen though). Like, seriously. There is a 4000 word difference between this and my draft. I've got to stop describing shit.**

**Jamie speaks fancy and polite 'cause he seems fancy and polite.**

**I hope you have figured out by now that these notes are just a tonne of dot-point-like notes of info that most people won't read. I never usually do, at least. (should it be 'tonne' or 'ton'. Hmmm.) If you read author's notes, or more my author's notes, can you please inform me in your own, creative way. Or just review, because I'm lonely and have no social life.**

**Bombe Alaska, Bitches. Yes, I will be swearing.**

**P.S Holy shiet! My b-day was on the 8****th****, and my friend got me the ****_Illustrated _****War horse book. I am over the moon right now!**


	4. Weeks

**This is not written as a 'proper' chapter, just a soft of 'filler'. Thought I should point that out before you decide this is lazy writing and stop reading. (It's not ****_lazy_****, it's just I'm too un-creative to figure out a proper way to go about it in the time limit I have set myself.**

***00***

**Chapter 4- Weeks**

And trouble she was in. It was a good half an hour of shouting from the courtyard before the old man trudged off to the fields and Marie stomped inside. She busied herself with gathering the soldier's now empty porridge bowls and taking them over to the sink. She all but threw the strawberries out of the way, having a small moment of panic when they almost fell off the bench. But after she steadied them, she was straight back into her temper-fuelled rush, scrubbing the bowls at a remarkable speed. The men at the table remained silent, afraid to utter a word in case she directed her fury to one of them. It was obvious by now that this woman had a temper, a _mammoth_ one at that. The second the last bowl was cleaned and slammed down on the bench she turned to them, eyes blazing with rage.

"Stand." She said harshly. They all stood quickly, even Jamie, not wanting to anger the woman further (although they were unwilling to admit it, they were absolutely _terrified _of her). She continued speaking just as harshly, gesturing to the door as she did so. "Out."

They all shuffled out. A new sort of fear was filling Jamie. Was she kicking them out? Although she had done so much for the already, Jamie couldn't help but feel it was unfair. It was stupid, but mostly founded on the fact he didn't know where the English cavalry camp was. It had probably packed up by now, news of their failure had mostly likely reached them (Jamie hoped, _prayed, _that it had. They need to get out of there). If she kicked them out now, there was no way they could find their way back to… well… anywhere. He remained panicking as they gathered outside the door nervously. But then Marie trudged outside with a look that could kill.

"Follow." She barked, making her way towards the barn. Jamie looked out to the field, seeing the little black and blue figure of Grandfather plodding around in a vaguely angry manner (really must run in the family).

They walked through the open door of the barn, the smell of hay and wood hitting them like a brick. They saw their horses, now clean, brushed and gleaming, dozing off. The seven army horses were shoved into three stalls, whilst Maybell was, once again, by herself. A straw-covered Emilie was standing next to an awake, but exhausted looking Joey, stroking his neck gently. Her eyes followed them as they walked up towards the back of the barn. Jamie spotted his horse, head hanging low and snoring slightly. He wanted to go to Topthorn, but Marie herded them up a ladder and into a (yet another) hay loft. This one, though, was unlike the one they had spent the night in. This one had bales and bales of hay stacked up to the roof, with loose pieces scattered over the floor. There was no rotting or broken wood here, just a few coils or fraying rope around the place. She led them towards the very back corner of the loft, where there was a gap between the wall and another pile of hay. When the boys shuffled out of the way, and was shocked to see a small door.

It was half the size of the average door, and made of dark wood. The door was open, revealing a small, dark room inside. No windows, just the light from the doorway. There were bales of hay, lined up in pairs, one on every wall and in the centre of room. Faded sheets covered the bales, cascading over the sides and spilling over the floor. Atop of those, were pillows stuffed with more lose straw.

Beds. They were beds.

"Ziz was my sister's _pièce secrete_." Marie spoke, anger mostly gone from her voice, leaving only the slightest amount of irritation. "But it iz yours, for now."

So, this was where they would be sleeping. The younger men filed in slowly into the room, Marie shoving a lantern and matches into their hands. But Jamie stayed outside, standing beside Marie. She looked sad. She was watching the boys move their straw pillows around and fold their sheets.

"He said it was dangerous to help you. Zat I should not have." She said quietly, accent almost non-existent in her softness. Her straight back was now hunched, and she seemed deflated. Jamie looked at her, confused and not sure what she was going on about. Marie looked to him and saw his expression. She straightened up quickly, harsh look returning to her face, and gesture for him to enter the little room.

She turned and marched back towards the ladder, skirt trailing out behind her. Jamie stared after her a moment, even more confused as her thought her words over, before joining the other soldiers in examining their new 'home'.

The rest of the day was mostly dancing around each other and the delicate matters of them being here. Very few talked to Jamie at first. In fact, the only person to talk to him was Marie, in a brief, rushed, but polite conversation about nothing of particular importance (just weather or something equally as forced and quaint). The soldiers didn't talk to him. No. They did not utter a word to him. But he did stand near them enough to hear them, thus learning their names.

Freddy. Charles. Jack. George.

He learnt their names by listening to them, not talking to them. They never talked to him.

Freddy was the blonde boy with the chubby, rosy cheeks. He had revealed to the other soldiers, when he had thought Jamie was not listening, that he was sixteen, not the necessary eighteen years of age for enlisting for the army. He was not very strong or brave. His father was the one who had signed him up for the Calvary, not the boy himself. But for what he lacked in strength, he made up for in heart. He was kind, courageous and very emotional. He smiled kindly to Emilie when she bounded around them, and agreed to help Grandfather make jam when asked (the others had sniggered and called the job a boring waste of time).

Charles was the older brown haired boy. He had not uttered a word to Jamie, but he seemed to talk around the other men. He had shaper, more defined features then the rest of the boys, but was nothing next to Marie and her cheekbones. He also seemed to have this completely unfounded annoyance for Emilie.

Jack. Jamie could use one word to describe the little ginger- haired brat. Annoying. As soon as Marie or the Grandfather turned their back after giving an instruction or making a request, he would mimic their accent. Jamie didn't know what infuriated him more. The fact Jack did it or that the other boys laughed. (Jamie called them boys because the eldest, Charles, was twenty, barley a match for Jamie's twenty-eight).

George was the smaller of the brown-haired boys. Jamie didn't think much of him. Not in a bad way, but more to the fact that the lad seemed to fade into the background when in a conversation with the others, only laughing or throwing in a comment when absolutely necessary. He seemed like the sort of person to work alone, yet he was always next to at least one of the other soldiers whilst doing some of the little chores Grandpére was already asking of them.

Jamie sighed. With nothing to do and the horses now resting, thoughts were begin consuming him. Horrid, guilty thoughts. The image of bodies littered across the ground flashed in front of his eyes every few minutes, reminding him where he had been only a day before (god, it only _one day_). He could do nothing to pass the time efficiently, since the boys had taken over the chores, his mind was now beginning to wonder. He needed a distraction. He needed to get away from the thoughts in his own head.

And he found a distraction later that afternoon. The sun was setting, bathing the courtyard in an orange light and throwing the shadows around. The distraction came in the form of a little girl in a white, flower print dress, jumping up and down in attempts to reach the clothes on the clothes line. She was having extremely hard time reaching the piece of rope (which was extremely, ridiculously high up), and was starting to tire.

This was a good distraction.

He began to walk towards her, determination perhaps too evident on his face, for when she looked up to him, fear suddenly coated her features. He tried to seem less intimidating as he continued to walk towards her. She had stopped jumping up to rope, just staring at him as he gained on her. When he was in front of her, just staring at her a moment. They looked at each other, timid look on her face, until he reached up and took hold of the clothes line and pulling it down to Emilie's level. She stared a moment, before smiling brightly and beginning to pluck the clothes off of the line.

"Merci, Monsieur!" she was smiling brightly, pulling the pieces of fabric off in a happy hurry. 'Merci' meant 'thank-you', Jamie knew that much. He stared at the clothes for a moment, the clean pieces of fabric making him envious. He felt suffocated in his dirty (balancing on the line of filthy) uniform, it suddenly feeling tight on him. He didn't think Emilie spoke English, for he had not heard her utter a word of his language. So, he answered in words he didn't think she wouldn't understand.

"You are quite welcome, little Miss." He spoke happily. She may not have understood him, but it was refreshing to finally have someone talk to him. The tense, awkward silence had been following him all day and it was well on its way to exhausting him, was slowly fizzing out. But then she had paused, a look of sheer concentration covered her features as she mouthed his words slightly. He realised then she understood his words, just not immediately. She looked like she was slowly figuring the words out. It was very clear the moment she did.

"I am not _petit_!" she half shouted, but there was a large smile on her face. She giggled, before pulling down another item of clothing -a shirt- off of the line. He found himself smiling back, refreshed by her childishness. He helped her pull the clothing off while conversing in faulty, halted English (a good half of her sentences were made up of French).

_Marie paused in the door way of the barn, staring at the soldier and her sister. They were both laughing and smiling, he pulling the clothes line down for her to reach. Marie smiled for a moment, before frowning and walking back into the barn._

*00*

It was Marie who was the arty, crafty member of the family. The knitting in the basket and sewing equipment on the table belonged to her. They realised this when the soldiers timidly walked into the kitchen the next morning to find her half asleep at the table with five small, neatly folded pieces of cloth. She had clumsily handed a pile of fabric to the each of them, eyes almost fully closed and half-way to unconscious. There was a fire lit, warming to room and making it harder for her to remain awake.

It was upon a further inspection that they all realised that folded cloth was, in fact, She had spent the whole night sewing.

She had given a harsh instruction to go and change clothes quickly and to bring their now filthy uniforms back, all except for the boots. They did as they were told, trudging back to the barn to change (Jack, of course, threw in an imitation of tired Marie once they were out of ear shot, causing to younger men to laugh. But not Jamie). The changing part was awkward, all having to find a piece of wall they could stare at without seeing each other.

Jamie had a pair of grey trousers and a white shirt much like the Grandfather's. In fact, he guessed that they were either some of the man's clothes that were modified, or Maire made the family's clothes. The other boys had much the same style of clothes; only differences were small things such as colour and buttons.

They bought their uniforms back to the farm house and placed them in front of the dozing Marie. She jolted awake sniffing and blinking for a moment before stretching and looking through the bundle of clothes on the table (Jamie was the only one who had folded his uniform). After making sure that every piece of their uniform was there (save for their boots of course, which they were wearing), she gathered them in her hands, turned in her seat at the head of the table, and threw them into the fire.

The boys shouted, not words but more strangled sounds. They were distraught that the things that had bought them honour and pride at home, burn as though it were simply tinder. Jamie, on the other hand, was over the moon to see the things get destroyed. He would have done the same sooner or later, in hopes of repressing the memories of his mistakes. But he knew it would never really happen.

"Silence!" Marie whisper shouted, efficiently shutting them up. But Marie seemed to launch into some sort of rant, anger fuelling her words, accent distorting her words. "I have risked my life for _you. _I have risked my family's lives for you. If ze Germon armie findz your uniforms, we are all _dead - mort_!"

The boys remain silent as she turned, averting her glare from them, and poking the fire and burning clothes with a metal rod.

Jamie was happy to see them be reduced to nothing but black ash.

*00*

"Ne la touchez pas!" Marie cried, arms thrown out in Jamie's direction and fear clear in her voice. His hand was hovering near Maybell's neck, intending to give her a gentle stroke but stopped dead before he could due to her panicked voice.

There was a moment of silence. It was only Jamie's second day at the farm. Marie had come up to him after an awkward breakfast and asked (demanded) that he help her with caring for the horses.

"Do not touch her." She translated, much calmer than she had been just a moment ago. Jamie quickly pulled his hand away from the small horse. It was a good thing he did, because a moment later, the pale pony's head shot out and she tried to land a bite on him.

He stuck to caring for the soldier's horses.

*00*

Marie wasn't particularly fond of the soldiers, but nor did she dislike them. She accepted that they were there, but she didn't talk politely like Grandpére or laugh with them like Emilie. She just accepted their presence and went on with her work. But sometimes they could not be ignored. This was one of those times.

She needed to go back into town. The little village was almost deserted now, since the war was creeping closer and almost all the men were fighting in said war. The little French family were pretty self-sustaining, but still need some of the basic necessities (it turned out she was on her way into town when she had run into the Germans and freed them). For example, the reason for this trip was the fact that the three chickens had died (a fox had come and killed them in the early morning. It murdered all three, but only carried away one when a furious and hysterical Maire chased it from the tiny hen house behind the barn).

That is why she sat atop her little horse (who had arched her neck and was currently chewing at the bit between her teeth), one leg on either side of the saddle, as usual. Jamie was no longer bothered by seeing her ride like this, for he had seen it many times as she rode around in the mornings. But the other men, it seemed, were not as accustomed to it as Jaime. Jack, in fact, proceeded to state his opinion rather loudly.

"Are you not going to ride properly?" He said rudely, not even throwing in the slightest politeness. Jamie cringed slightly, feeling momentarily sorry for him before realising he deserved every insult he was about to cop from Marie.

She turned to him angrily, now infamous glare plastered back on her face.

"If ze world was a reasonable place, men would be the one riding side saddle!" she growled, nudging Maybell in to a spritely walk, walking quickly away from the soldiers and the farm. The men were shocked into silence. What she had said was scandalous, so much so most of the soldiers began to feel disgusted. But not Jamie. He felt… _happy_. He responded to her words quickly.

"Look at it this way, gentlemen." Jamie said, trying to keep the strange sudden smugness out of his voice. These were some of the first words he had spoken to them, on accounts most of his conversations took place with Marie, Grandfather and Emilie (he and the girl had formed a nice little bond). "If she didn't ride astride, we would all probably be in the German's hands."

It was true. Although he had seen a few women speed along whilst riding side saddle, it was still clear that sitting atop the horse was still a faster way of traveling. And then he saw it.

Marie was only a few lengths away from them, and she must have heard what Jamie had said. Her head turned slightly, revealing the smallest of smiles before she urged Maybell into a trot, then a canter, before disappearing down the dirt road and behind the small hills.

She did not return of three days.

***00***

**Boom de yada, boom de yada, that sucked like pina colada. …WTF is a pina colada… (turns out it's an alcoholic drink. Joy). I just said it 'cause it rhymed in my head.**

**So yeah. That sucked. He he. Yeah, review because I'm lonely. And have social life. Which would explain me trying to rhyme boom de yada and pina colada. I'm a bit of a sad loser.**

**The more I read this, the less I'm happy with it.**

**I just memorized 'Gatsby believed in the green light' for the fun of it. I am a sad human being if that's what I do for fun.**


	5. Ride

**Chapter 5- Ride**

Summer was slowly coming to an end. Winter was still a long way off, but it was steadily advancing on them. The mornings were becoming cooler, the dew covering the ground occasionally forming crystal-like frost on particularly chilly mornings, before it quickly defrosted into little speckles of water. Jamie knew that soon, as the cold season came closer, that the frost would not thaw out so swiftly. In fact, it would barely thaw at all and be accompanied by snow, but it was still a long way off.

The residents of the farm and the soldiers had formed a nice (if not slightly awkward) routine, side by side. The girls (Marie and Emilie) did things such as laundry and berry picking, finishing all of the little fiddly jobs. Freddy, was also better at the small delicate jobs and jam making, which he did with Grandpére. Charles did most of the heavy lifting (not that there was that much of that), whilst Jack and George tended mostly to the land (both being farmers, it turned out). But Jamie didn't really have a work criteria, he just did the work that needed doing. But, mostly, he tended to the horses.

It was after breakfast one morning that Emilie came bounding up to him. The sun was just rising and painting all surfaces in soft pink, fog drifting over the grassy fields and coating the lawn in dew. It had rained late last night, turning most of the dirt to hard mud. The little girl had a huge, gleeful smile on her face. Jamie couldn't help but smile right on back. He liked Emilie. The boys still had not willingly talked to him, so his main source of conversation was from the original residents of the farm. Emilie, most of all.

She stood there, eyes facing towards the sky and face creased in concentration. Jamie knew that face well, for had seen it many times over the weeks he had been at the farm. It was the face she made when she was trying to translate her words into English. He waited patiently for her, knowing that the girl was not exactly the best at speaking the language.

"Will you" she paused, a look of confusion and uncertainty sweeping over her features, wondering if she was saying it right. She remained like that for the shortest of moments before she smiled again and finished. "Ride with me?"

Jamie laughed happily for the girl, trying to seem light-hearted and cheerful. but in reality he was terrified that someone (someone being Grandpére) had heard. Marie seemed happy to let the girl around and trot as slow as possible, but Emilie never had sat upon a horse in his time there, for Grandfather was so very against it. He grumbled and growled like a rabid dog when Marie suggested that the younger girl ride Joey (Emilie had taken a particular liking to Joey. At first, Jamie felt possessive over the horse, for he had been James' mount. But when he saw how gently she stroked and groomed the bay, and Jamie found he liked watching the two together). Helping the little girl ride would be dangerous.

"Not today, little Miss." He kept the smile on her face, in hopes she would not see his more than slight fear. Jamie had gotten into the habit of calling her that. She always pouted and replied by calling him '_monsieur chic_', though he had no Idea what it meant.

But it seemed this time was an exception to their routine, for instead of pouting, she frowned sadly and began to plead with him. He was shocked by her sudden change in attitude, but still denied her of the assistance in riding.

"I will take her." The sudden, new voice startled Jamie into jumping around. Marie stood before them, in her usual button-up and skirt, this time a light blue shirt and navy plaid skirt. Her hair remained in its signature ponytail, but this time it was a royal blue ribbon that held it in place on her head. She folded her arms, but for once was not stink-eyeing him. In fact, she looked rather pleasant, with her eyes wide and the smallest hint of a smile on her face, her voice reflecting her expression. While Jamie remain looking at her with a mixture of fear and shock, but Emilie began to bounce happily in her usual manner.

"Allez-vous? Allez-vous allez-vous allez-vous?!" She was actually jumping around in what seemed to be complete and utter joy, boots leaving imprints in the dust. Jamie looked from the lively girl to Marie, wondering if this was a usual occurrence. But Maire looked as shocked and uneasy as he felt, eyes wider that a moment ago and a grimace on her face. She reached out and grabbed the girl's shoulders, pushing down hard on her beige sleeved arms in order to still her. Emilie did so, reluctantly, but the big smile remained on her face.

Marie smiled at Emilie's happiness, before grabbing her hand and leading her (Marie walked and Emilie skipped) into the barn. Most of the horses had finished their breakfast, except for Freddy's chestnut mare (whose temperament seemed much like her rider's, Jamie had discovered.). Joey had finished his food, and had his head held high, ears pricked forward and coat glistening in the early morning light from the window. Emilie bound up to him, and he bent his proud head so she could pat his nose gently.

But while she was happy just standing and stroking the bay as she usually did, Marie walked to the back of the barn were the tack was kept. Jamie could hear some of equipment being moved about, before she came stumbling back into view with Joey's gear piled high in her arms and dumped it as carefully as she could in front of the bay's stall. She picked up the rug that was put on his back underneath his saddle and began talking to Emilie in a nurturing tone. Jamie stood back and simply watched as Marie taught the smaller girl how to properly put on his saddle, when Marie's head suddenly snapped in his direction. They stared at each other a moment, before she pointed to Topthorn.

"Ready your horse, Monsieur." She spoke quietly, in a very un-Marie sort of way. It was that that made him swiftly turn to fetch Topthorn's tack, digging around through the various pieces of leather gear like he guessed Marie had to find the right pieces. Marie was confusing him with her happy and soft manner, but he was too afraid to say anything about it. When he came back, Joey's saddle was on and Marie was hunched over slightly, helping Emilie to ease the bit into the big bay's mouth. So he began to tack up his big black mount. He didn't know why she wanted him to 'ready his horse', but he had learnt over his time here not to defy her orders.

The moment Joey was completely ready, reins held firmly in Emilie's hands, Marie hurried off to get her own gear and, strangely enough, a lead rope. She rushed back and quickly readied Maybell, pushing her head away when she tried to bite her while tightening the girth. She then instructed Emilie to do something in French, before unclipping the rope barrier and leading her little horse out. Emilie did the same, just with much more fumbling between rope and reins. Marie had instructed him to tack up his horse, and he had no idea what else to do, so Jamie followed the women.

The courtyard was void of life besides their own and the little fuzzy chickens that had crept from their house behind the barn. Marie clipped the lead rope on Joey's bit before helping Emilie messily onto her horse's saddle. Marie mounted afterwards, lead rope held firmly in hand. Jamie, once again following his companions out of confusion and lack of idea what was actually going on.

They quietly plodded out of the gate, Emilie giggling nervously when Joey tried to eat the long grass growing around the fence posts. Marie was holding Maybell back, much Like Jamie was doing with Topthorn, making her arch her neck and 'prance' slightly. Joey, however, seemed to understand how precious his passenger was, and walked calmly along down the road. They turned into the fields, with blooming flowers of rainbow colours and hoof prints leaving marks in the dew. Emilie was grinning like a madwoman, gripping both the reins and the front of the saddle due to slight nerves.

The two Frenchwomen talked to each other quietly, laughing every few moments because of the hilarious conversation they seemed to be having. Jamie, unable to understand anything but the very occasional, basic word, remained plodding awkwardly besides them. It was after ten minutes of brisk walking that the girls halted. Jamie quickly stopped his own horse, snapping out of the bored haze he was in. Emilie looked up to Marie in confusion, before the older girl leant over and unclipped the lead from Joey's bit. Emilie was suddenly halfway between horror and excitement, not quite sure if she was ready to go on alone. But Marie just smiled and nodded. The little girl's grin came back, before nudging Joey into a brisk walk. Marie looked on, smiling impossibly wider than her sister and calling out a few things in French as the girl walked away quickly.

Jamie and Marie remained stand side by side. As Emilie walked farther away, Marie's smile slowly slid off her face as she looked across at him. It was her change in attitude that worried him greatly. She looked back to Emilie's retreating figure, before she turned her head to him again. She repeated this a few times, also accompanied by the opening and closing of her mouth. He was quite concerned now.

"The rain has made mud. The horses now pull guns, no more zhe Cavalry." It took a second for Jamie to understand what she was talking about, but when he did, stared down at his big horse's neck. The army. She was talking about the army. It was the first time he had heard her utter a word on the subject, but she didn't seem like she had finished yet. "Both sides have dug Zemselves into trenches."

Silence. Jamie couldn't manage to look up from Topthorn's glossy black mane. He felt miserable and angry. The happy mood he had had just moments before deserted him, leaving a sudden empty feeling his stomach. Marie was looking at her horse's neck as well. Although Jamie didn't know it, it was this news she had received on her latest expedition to town that had made her avoid her usual rudeness. When she had returned from her trip, she kept the news to herself and carried on a she normally did, glares and all. But Marie had finally come to the conclusion that he needed to be told earlier that morning, she had started being polite so to prepare him for the news he was about to receive. Emilie was getting smaller and smaller as she continued to swiftly move away. Marie pushed Maybell into a spritely walk in order to stay somewhat close to her sister. Jamie followed again, but remained staring at his horse's smooth hair.

"Not good weather, non?" She said politely, trying to make the whole situation much less… _tense_. Jamie looked up to the sky, seeing she was right. The lovely, clear early morning had changed dramatically, dark clouds floating in from the edges of the sky and swiftly advancing towards the sun. He wanted to laugh at the clique-ness of her question. But he still answered.

"No it is not, Miss." He tried to smile slightly while saying it. Marie was happy that her attempt at conversation had spurred a reaction from him. She had nothing to answer with, and wanted to stay silent. She wasn't very good at making conversation, but had a feeling that if she didn't reply, they would start feeling uncomfortable with each other again. So she answered.

"It iz bad weather for summer, MajorStuart." She said with her heavy accent, looking to him. And, miraculously, she was smiling. It was small, forced and almost non-existent, but it was there none the less.

"I would hope so, Miss." He was smiling properly now, not just a little grin. Jamie didn't mind cold, rainy weather. It had its place, one of which was making his mother's flowers grow. But Jamie himself much preferred warm weather. He hoped it stayed warm here throughout the year, though most likely not. "Are the winters cold here?"

"Ahh, Oui Oui, Major Stuart." She said with the slightest touch of amusement in her voice. It snowed in winter, especially around Christmas. She couldn't until Christmas. It may have only been the middle of the year, but it had been the worst of her life. She couldn't wait for it to end.

"Hmm, I suspected it would. I would hope the chills pass quickly, though." This was the first conversation he had had with Marie, and the glee he got from that was going straight to his tone. He tried to make his voice the least joyful and light as he could, but it was not working. Having someone 'new' to talk to after so many weeks of conversing with the same men (well, conversing was defiantly not the word for them) and the one little girl was making him slightly giddy.

"Oh, non non non!" The amusement was very prominent in her voice now, along with teasing. The faint smile on her face had grown slightly. This whole situation continued to shock him. He had only seen her like this when she was around her family. Perhaps it was Emilie riding that had gotten her this damn cheerful, because Jamie highly doubted it was his doing. "It will stay cold for long time."

"Well then, Miss Gilbert, I will have a very rotten Christmas knowing that." He didn't know where that sentence came from, but it spoke the truth. He would be miserable knowing that the chill would last. Hopefully though, the war would be over by Christmas, as everyone said it would be. Then he may just be able to go home.

"Marie. Call me Marie, Major." She said it so suddenly that it made the smile drop off his face. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Calling her Marie was intimate; it would be something a friend would do. He didn't mind Marie; she could be sharp tonged and quick tempered, but she seemed nice and kind enough. But he didn't really consider her a friend. He suddenly felt awkward and uncomfortable. Marie, for her part, regretted it the moment she had said it. She had been trying too _sanglant_ hard to lighten his mood it had just slipped past her filter and out of her mouth. She sensed and saw how uncomfortable he had become, and scrambled to try fix it as best she could.

"'Miss Gilbert' is what the townspeople call me." As she said this, her face screwed up in a rather comical way. Her nose wrinkled and a scowled formed on her lips. He couldn't help the laugh that left his mouth, though it was short and a tiny bit choky. Then suddenly he felt a huge amount of pressure on him. She was letting him address her by her first name; it would only right to let her do the same for him. But he didn't know if he wanted that. But he felt he needed to, and he promised himself he would be polite to her. He had no choice, really.

"Then you my call me Jamie, Miss Marie." He called her 'Miss Marie' because he didn't want to say her name without some form of politeness. She turned with a hardened stare before responding.

"Oui, _Monsieur _Jamie." There was only a hint of amusement left in her voice, and he resisted the urge the chuckle at her childishness (though he was already become nervous under her gaze). But Marie was, in fact, trying to correct herself back to her usual ways so she would not stupidly slip up like that again. Jamie guessed she would have continued glaring at him, had Emilie not made a squeak sound in the distance, drawing their attention.

Joey was prancing slightly and pulling to rush forward, but Emilie was tugging the reins as hard as she could to stop him, causing him to move backwards and then forwards. Jamie identified what was wrong immediately. In her panic, she was gripping onto her horse's sides tightly with her legs, making him think she wanted him to go run forwards, yet she was pulling the reins to stop him. The big bay was confused. Marie must have seen this too, for she was suddenly hurdling down the hill towards her sister, her little horse's legs moving outrageously fast as they did so.

"Libérer vos jambs, libérer vos jambs!" She shouted at the top of her lungs. She must have instructed her sister to do something, for the little girl released the pressure in her legs and loosed the hold on the reins.

He watched as Marie skidded to a halt beside Emilie and Joey, grabbing the bay's bit and talking quietly to the girl. Marie developed a soft look on her face as she tried to calm her slightly shaking sister, speaking in a rhythmic pace rather than her usual frantic one. Jamie let them chat to each other quietly for a moment, before walking down the small hill towards them.

***00***

**Probably mistakes in hee somewhere, but I have once again read and re-read to the point where am absolutely sick of it, so this is going to have to do.**

**I'm going on Holiday for a whole seven weeks (yay), so no updates in that time (for anyone who cares). (Also: lazy writing is lazy, tra la la la la la.)**

**Thank-you to 'InYourNightmares' for the very welcome constructive criticism. And for reviewing (you were seriously the only person who had talked to me directly the entire Sunday. I need friends. Or at least someone who I can watch Warhorse with). I have had this chapter written out for a while, but I feel it is going against everything you said. Sorry, didn't mean for that to happen.**

**I've been listening to a lot of Florence + the machine songs lately (well, I actually never really stop listening to their songs), especially the acoustic versions. Everyone, listen to 'No light, no light' acoustic version, were Florence holds a note forever and thus supports the fact that she is the most amazing human being ever. Also listen 'Breath of Life' acoustic.**

**Watched ****KatFTWynn on Youtube play 'To the Moon' while writing this. Cried like a small child. I suggest everyone who reads this watch it for the best and loveliest emotional rollercoaster of your life. It won't make sense at first, but the more you watch the better it gets. *SOB*. Also watched some **_**PewDiePie **_**horror games, especially 'Real Life Horror Stories' and 'Year Walk'. I also went and saw 'The Fault in our Stars'. I am now an emotional wreck. The book was bad enough.**

**It annoys me greatly that in the book, Jamie's last name is spelt '****Stewart', but on this site they spell it 'Stuart'. I don't know, just a pet peeve.**

**I'm not sure about French weather, and the internet told me very little. Damn it Internet, I trusted you.**


End file.
